


Reasons Not to Date Jim Kirk

by prelives



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-02
Updated: 2010-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:32:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prelives/pseuds/prelives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She definitely doesn’t hate him, she knows that. It’s just, well, there’s something a little too familiar about that confident smirk permanently plastered across his admittedly very pretty face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasons Not to Date Jim Kirk

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://theemmer.livejournal.com/profile)[**theemmer**](http://theemmer.livejournal.com/) over at [](http://ewinfic.livejournal.com/profile)[**ewinfic**](http://ewinfic.livejournal.com/)'s [Mega Mini Haiti-thon](http://ewinfic.livejournal.com/73558.html). The prompt was for: "Jim/OFC - he reminds her too much of the man that hurt her - when he finds out that's why she goes out of her way to avoid him he's determined to show her he's not that guy..." So hope you like! Also, thanks to [](http://ewinfic.livejournal.com/profile)[**ewinfic**](http://ewinfic.livejournal.com/) for being an awesome beta and hosting this!

About a month into the five-year voyage, Christine comes to several realizations. The first is the most obvious: that Captain Jim Kirk is the most brilliant person she’s ever met. But her second is that he’s also absolutely insane. Only a month in and he’s already been in Med Bay not once but four times, each time for an injury more bizarre than the last. Doctor McCoy looks exasperated, and Kirk just gives him a petulant look, and then he turns to her and shrugs, shooting her a winning smile, all, “What can you do, am I right?” And her stomach absolutely does _not_ flip over and she is absolutely _not_ going to smile back in return. She manages her best Disapproving Frown before scurrying into the supply closet to count inventory, a very important job that must be done right at this moment. She overhears Kirk ask McCoy, “Your new nurse totally hates me, Bones.” 

“She obviously has good taste.” McCoy chuckles deeply, and she can’t help but feel the corners of her mouth turn up when she hears the loud protests from Kirk in reply. She definitely doesn’t hate him, she knows that. It’s just, well, there’s something a little too familiar about that confident smirk permanently plastered across his admittedly very pretty face. He has the look of someone who’s used to getting anything and anyone that he wants, and Christine is _not_ going to play his game and become a member of the “I Slept with Jim Kirk” Club. 

It’s pretty hard to avoid him, though. He’s in Med Bay on a fairly regular basis, sometimes injured and sometimes not, but always in the way and _always_ annoying. 

“Hi Chapel!” He chirps in her direction, and she can only roll her eyes and sigh so many times before she throws a terse greeting back in return, which never fails to get a cheery grin out of him. _So he’s charming,_ Christine thinks. _Big deal._ It’s surprising, though, to find him sprawled across one of the empty biobeds one day, humming to himself. 

“McCoy’s not here.” She tells him without looking up from charts she’s been studying. 

“Oh. Okay.” He doesn’t sound particularly perturbed, and he continues to swing his legs about and hum, rather annoyingly in fact. 

“Captain, do you not have… captainly things to be doing?” 

“I do. But part of that involves checking up on people in every department, and that means checking how my favorite cranky doctors and nurses are.” He grins again and she sighs. “So how is my favorite cranky nurse?” 

“I _was_ doing fine.” His face falls a little and he goes quiet. After a bit, he gets up and leaves. She feels a little bad, but she doesn’t want to be one of his conquests, treated like any other girl he sleeps with once and then that’s it. She _does_ have some pride left that Roger couldn’t take.

He’s always back though, completely undeterred by whatever rejection she gave him before. He greets her with a smile, and a “Hey Chapel, how’s it going?” 

She can only ignore him for so long before she relents, and gives him a polite smile. “I’m good, thank you for the concern, Captain.” His face lights up, and she can tell he's about to launch into some story, and now he'll be here for hours.

“Have I told you about the time I found Bones passed out naked in the library?” And then he’s off on some meandering story and she has to laugh in spite of herself, because, okay, it _is_ a funny story, and it feels good, this easy camaraderie. 

It becomes something of a regular thing. Sometimes Kirk comes down to harass McCoy, and she somehow gets roped into the game too. 

“We need to find Bones a girlfriend, he’s way too cranky.” Kirk gives her a conspiratorial look, and she rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. 

“Damn it, Jim.” McCoy whacks Kirk on the arm with a PADD, and Jim yelps. 

“Bones! Whatever happened to “do no harm?” You’re supposed to heal me, not hurt me. You are the worst doctor ever. Chapel, you wouldn’t hurt me, right?” Christine looks at him and shrugs, a smile tickling at the edge of her lips. McCoy looks at Kirk and sighs, deep and long-suffering, which she can totally sympathize with. 

It isn’t that Christine doesn’t _like_ Kirk exactly, but there’s something a little too familiar about his bright smile. She did the “self-entitled pretty boy” thing with Roger, and _that_ was a disaster. The worst part had been, when he broke off the engagement, how his eyes had gone all soft, like “Chrissy, you didn’t actually expect this to work out, did you?” She wanted to smack herself, _like he would really change for_ me, _how much of a cliché am I?_ She’s pretty sure as soon as Kirk gets bored of chasing her without results, he’s going to move on to his next game and that’ll be the end of that. 

She conveniently forgets that if nothing else, Jim Kirk is incredibly persistent. 

“Seriously, do you not have anyone else to annoy?” She asks him one day, when he strolls into Med Bay, whistling to himself. 

“I do, but none of them are as fun as you.” He waggles his eyebrows in a manner that can only be called crude. She rolls her eyes, something she seems to be doing a lot of these days. “You know, they’re gonna get stuck that way if you keep doing that.” Kirk points out. 

“Thanks, Captain, for the medical advice.” 

“You can call me ‘Kirk’ or ‘Jim,’ you know. We’re friends, right?” She has to swallow down her bubble of laughter, because he’s serious. 

“I don’t know if I’d say that.” She says with a smirk. 

“Aww come on! We’re at least kind of friends, right?” She sighs. If she doesn’t appease him, he’s just going to keep going. 

“Kind of friends, okay?” He nods, deeply serious, but his eyes are twinkling. 

It _is_ kind of fun, she has to admit. Sometimes they team up and heckle McCoy, an activity that requires little effort. Sometimes they just hang out, and he tells her about all the administrative boring duties of a captain, and she tells him about the funny minor injuries that pass through the Med Bay on a daily basis (mostly from Engineering) and, _it doesn’t have to be more than that,_ she thinks. 

It’s late one night when things get a little weird. They’re both off-duty after a marathon of a shift, during which the away team came back a complete mess, and Chapel was in and out of surgery with McCoy for hours on end until she thought her feet would just completely fall off. Kirk looks just as ragged as the two of them do, and after McCoy has passed out on the couch in the recreation room, it’s just Chapel and Kirk and a bottle of rum procured from somewhere. Christine doesn’t really care, frankly, as the burn in her throat when she takes a swallow feels good. 

“They don’t tell you about these things at the Academy.” Kirk says after their second drink. “Dealing with... this, whatever this is...” He lets his voice trail off. 

“Death?” Christine offers. He nods. 

“Nothing prepares you for it… the feeling of being responsible for all these other people.” His eyes look dull from the alcohol and whatever else is eating at him, and Christine feels a slight tug at her heart. _He’s so young,_ she thinks. _We all are._ She wants to say something, anything, but he’s looking at her, almost clinically, like he’s trying to figure out some big secret about her. 

“What?” She finally asks, feeling herself beginning to blush under his intense gaze. 

“Christine...” He starts, and suddenly, the room feels too small, almost constricting, and she doesn’t want to hear the end of his sentence. 

“I should go. It’s late.” And if she’s not mistaken, Kirk actually looks _crestfallen_, but she’s already out the door, heady with alcohol and what actually almost happened. Once she’s out in the corridor, she has to lean against the wall and take a few deep breaths, because the little scene back there absolutely did _not_ make her stomach fill with butterflies, and most certainly did not make her think about kissing Kirk or doing anything like that. 

Christine lies awake that night, mentally making a list of reasons of “Why Kissing Kirk is a Really Bad Idea.” It shouldn’t be hard, especially when she remembers the whole Roger fiasco, and oh yeah, that’s a great argument right there. It almost doesn’t seem fair to count something like that against him, but she is not going down that path again. It’s hours until she falls asleep, and when she dreams, she absolutely does _not_ dream of kissing Jim Kirk and doing more than kissing.  

“The Captain certainly comes down here a lot.” One of the other nurses, Jenny Nolan, says this to her after Kirk has been down for his obligatory daily visit to harass McCoy and whatever else he can find to do. Christine just shrugs. Nolan raises an eyebrow conspiratorially, and scrutinizes her. “I think he likes you.” 

“I don’t think so.” Christine protests, feeling a flush creep over her face. 

“You are blushing! You are so guilty!” Nolan says triumphantly. 

“He’s not my type.” The excuse feels lame already, and Nolan can sense it. 

“What do you mean he’s not your type? Kirk is everyone’s type!” 

“I don’t date pretty boys.” Christine primly shrugs her shoulders and turns back to her PADD. The conversation is dropped, thankfully, and she’s almost forgotten about it until Kirk accosts her later, when she’s on her way back to her room. 

“I’m not Roger Korby,” He announces abruptly. 

“Well thank God for that,” She replies before it hits her. “Wait, what? How do you know who Roger even is?” 

“Nevermind.” _Nolan,_ Christine thinks. _The traitor._ “Well I’m not him.”

“Jim…” 

“I’m not. And don’t you think I should get a chance to show you that?” She doesn’t say anything, can’t, not when he’s moving closer, getting into her space. He reaches out for her hand, and she shivers, heart pounding so hard she’s sure he can hear it. And then he’s pressing his lips softly against hers, and she feels a bolt of electricity shoot straight to the pit of her stomach. She lets herself kiss him back, just for a moment, before pulling away. 

“I need to head to bed.” The rejection in his eyes is palpable, as if Christine doesn’t already feel like a huge bitch. But she can’t keep kissing him, not when she knows what it will lead to. She hurries down the corridor before he can protest, and when she gets back to her room, she tries not to think about what just transpired, tries not to ignore the pounding in her head that’s not from alcohol, tries not to think of anything at all. 

Kirk doesn’t come down to Med Bay the next day, or the one after. McCoy doesn’t say anything at first, but after the third day, he calls her into his office. 

“Look, Chapel,” He starts, looking visibly uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t be doing this, God knows Jim doesn’t need me playing wingman for him, but the kid’s totally hung up on you.” 

“And?” She can’t keep the defensive tone out of her voice, and McCoy raises an eyebrow at her. 

“I know what you think about him, and normally I’d agree with you, but I thought you should know, I haven’t seen him _with_ any crew member since we left.”

“He’s not allowed to date crew members.” 

“Yeah yeah, since when did Jim Kirk ever play by the rules?” 

She has to agree. “I’ll think about it.”

"Good, because listening to him whine every night is getting seriously depressing." McCoy gives her a small smile, which she returns.

It’s about a week later when there’s a mini party in the recreation room after Kirk signs his first trade agreement. It seems everyone has been waiting for some excuse to release all the tension they’re carrying around, but Christine decides not to go. Things have already been awkward enough with Kirk, and she doesn’t need another occasion to spend an entire evening dodging him. She’s about to put on her pajamas and curl up in bed with a book when Rand shows up at her door. 

“Come on, put on your dancing shoes, you’re going.” Christine opens her mouth to protest, but Rand shakes her head. “No, you have been such a downer lately, you and Kirk both, and I’m sick of it. You need some fun.” She likes Rand, she does, the two women have struck up an easy friendship, so she allows her to pick out a slightly too-revealing outfit and drag her out. 

And it’s just as ridiculous as she originally thought it would be. Half the people there are heading for drunk enough to make poor decisions, and the other half are already there. It isn’t until she’s halfway through her second drink that Christine finally sees Kirk. He’s drinking some type of ale, which doesn’t surprise her. She always took him for a beer and ale type of guy, not so much with the fruity drinks. He’s talking to one of the young ensigns, a pretty petite brunette who's obviously flirting with him. She’s tossing her shiny hair, and Christine swallows, feeling her throat go dry. She turns away, unable to watch what will happen. _It was a mistake to come here,_ she thinks as she leaves. 

She’s almost to the turbolift before she hears footsteps behind her.

“Christine!” It’s Kirk of course, and he’s out of breath, but he looks pleased.

“What? Aren’t you going to stay? You looked like you were having some luck.” 

“What?”

“Come on, I saw her, whoever she is, all over you. That looked like a sure thing.” She knows she’s being cruel, but she can’t stop it, now that she’s begun. 

“I dunno.” He shrugs, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I didn’t want to.” She stares at him, and he stares back, blue eyes piercing. She wants to scream at him to drop the act, because seriously, he’s telling her he just gave up an easy lay to come chase her down and have this twisted conversation with her, and what kind of bizarre universe is she living in? 

“You reminded me of Roger, at first.” She pauses, picking her words carefully. “Same confidence, same type of good looks.” Jim’s lips quirk for a minute, but he doesn’t smile. “When he broke it off, he made it seem like I’d been lucky to have been with him in the first place. I don’t want to do that again, play the hero worshipper, like I should be grateful just to be in someone’s presence.” 

“I’m not him.” He says plainly, eyes never leaving her face. “People talk, I know the reputation I had at the Academy. Some of it was true. A lot of it wasn’t. I’m not perfect, but I can promise you one thing: I will _never_ make you feel worthless.” He stops, and Christine feels like she’s been holding her breath, waiting to exhale. “You’re an incredible woman, Christine, and _I’m _grateful to be in your presence.” It’s a cheesy line, and she finally lets her breath out, and smiles. 

“Good speech.” She says, cocking an eyebrow. The anger’s gone from her voice though, and she just _can’t_ argue with him anymore. 

Jim grins in response, and he takes a step towards her. She just knows he’s going to kiss her now, and sure enough he’s pressed up against her, mouth hot and warm against her own. 

“My room.” Her voice is rough and breathless, it doesn’t sound like her own anymore. She doesn’t exactly know what she’s doing, but she’s tired of their little dance. She’s not going to let Roger ruin her forever, despite his best intentions, and she’s willing to give this a chance, a little one.

“Are you – “ 

“Jim! Before I change my mind!” She hauls him into the turbolift, and the doors aren’t fully closed before his mouth is on her, urgently planting a line of kisses down her neck, teeth scraping at her skin. His hands slide up her hips under her skirt, and she lets her head fall back, hitting the wall with a thunk, and God, she just _knew_ that smart mouth of his could be good for something. 

Christine’s not entirely sure how they make it back to her room, but soon enough, she’s kicking off her shoes and letting herself fall back onto the soft mattress. Jim grins down at her, before pulling off his shirt and crawling on the bed over to her. His lips are everywhere, nipping at the already flushed skin of her neck and chest, and she lifts her arms so he can slide off her shirt. He’s looking down at her like she’s some kind of particularly delectable treat, and he going to positively _devour_ her. It’s not a bad way to be looked at. She reaches around to unhook her bra, letting it slide off, and Jim inhales sharply. Her skin feels flushed and overheated, especially now that his kisses are moving lower and lower. His teeth scrape over one nipple, and now it’s her turn to gasp. 

She lifts her hips so he can slide off her skirt, and her entire body shudders when he dips two fingers beneath the fabric of her underwear. And then those are gone too, and his mouth is on her, sucking and teasing her until she feels like she’s teetering on the precipice of something. 

“Jim, please!” She manages to gasp out and he raises his head, eyebrow cocked, looking a little too proud of himself. She can feel the heat unfurling in the pit of her stomach, and she’s close, _so_ close. He slides a finger inside of her, then another, curling just so, and then she’s arching off the bed, letting out a strangled cry. For a minute she can’t breath, but then he’s sitting back to pull off his jeans and boxers. She reaches for his cock, enjoying the shudder that goes through his body. She strokes him a few times before he’s pushing her back down and sliding into her, hard and thick. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Jim’s eyes flutter for a moment, before his thrusts speed up. There’s a delicious sort of friction building within her, and he just shifts a little, just a bit, and then she’s arching off the bed, her body tightening around him. He manages a few more thrusts before he comes, collapsing on top of her. 

As she listens to the sounds of their breathing evening out, Christine has a brief moment of regret, of reaching the point of no return. But Jim rolls off her and lifts his head to look at her, blue eyes sated and sleepy. He smiles, and it’s impossible not to smile back. She gets up to go to the bathroom, and when she looks in the mirror she thinks she’ll feel ashamed, but she can only feel happy. She gets back into bed, and he curls his body around her. They’ll have to talk about it at some point, but for now she’s content to just let it be. 

Christine wakes up the next morning with a dry mouth and a minor headache. For a minute, she’s convinced it was all a dream, her subconscious playing some type of trick on her, but she rolls over, and Jim is flopped on his stomach, looking quite peaceful in his sleep. Her stomach turns over, and she reaches for the glass of water on her bedside. Jim stirs at the movement, and blearily eyes her. 

“Hey.” He croaks out, and she fights down a giggle at his hair sticking up at odd angles, rather adorably, she has to admit. 

“Hey yourself.” He reaches out for her, and she ends up sprawled across his stomach. His hand is making soothing little circles at the small of her back, and she shivers. Her lips find his, and then he’s flipped them over so he’s on top of her, warm and heavy. His mouth tastes kind of sour with sleep, but he's grinning sleepily down at her, and she feels the spread of warmth through her body. 

He rolls off of her and pulls her against him, so her back is against his chest, and his hand slides down the smooth plane of her stomach to dip between her legs. His fingers are making slow circles, and she shudders hard under his touch. He’s hard against her back, and she reaches around to stroke him, enjoying the escaped moan from his lips. She guides him inside of her, lifting up her leg to drape over his. His breath is hot against her ear, and she closes her eyes and loses herself in the rhythmic rocking of his hips against her, and the slow motions of his fingers. Jim’s muttering against her ear, a stream of nonsense mixed in with her name, and she could get used to this, she thinks. 

She can feel this one building slowly, and when she comes, she lets it wash over her like a wave. He follows quickly, and she feels his entire body stiffen and then relax against hers. She rolls away, and he lets out a groan at the loss of contact. She turns to look at him, and when she does, he’s smiling. 

“Are things going to be awkward?” He asks, and she chuckles. She’s not entirely sure what the next move is at this point. Her brain is telling her to keep her guard up, but her brain also told her not to enroll at Starfleet Academy, so it's not entirely to be trusted.

“It doesn’t have to be anything, just yet.” She finally says, and his smile doesn’t waver as he pulls her into a kiss. 

“One day at a time?” He murmurs against her lips, and she smiles. 

“Sure.” He grins at her, a little dangerously this time.  
“We still have thirty minutes until our shift starts.” She groans, but she’s smiling, and she absolutely does _not_ enjoy it when Jim kisses her, and she absolutely does _not_ enjoy it when Jim does more than kiss her, nope, not at all.


End file.
